


heliotropism

by taoslefteyelid



Category: EXO (Band), Z.Tao (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Divorce, M/M, be warned, krisho stans please dont yell at me i am tiny and trying my best, sehun is krisho's kid and he watches them go through married life and also remarried life, so if that's not your thing, there's a lot of taohun in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23017147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taoslefteyelid/pseuds/taoslefteyelid
Summary: Oh Sehun is born, and his parents love him.As he grows up, he wonders if they can still love each other.
Relationships: Huang Zi Tao | Z.Tao/Oh Sehun, Kim Junmyeon | Suho & Oh Sehun, Kim Junmyeon | Suho/Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Oh Sehun & Wu Yi Fan | Kris
Comments: 8
Kudos: 73





	heliotropism

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO this is new, not having taohun be my main ship,,, dshfjkasdfj if you feel like there's not enough krisho im v sorry i was sort of going for the whole "the story told by sehun's eyes and he doesn't know the details but he doesn't like any of this nonetheless" vibe.   
> I hope you like it!

Oh Sehun is born on a rainy morning at 9:34 am, in Severance Hospital, Seoul. He weighs 6 pounds; on the lower side of the weight scale, but nothing to worry about. 6 pound Oh Sehun’s first introduction to the world is ward 162. There are sunflowers on the windowsill. 

The first person he meets is Doctor Kim. In terms of births however, doctors don’t count as people, so really, the first person that Sehun meets is Ms. Oh, his biological mother. 

She seems nice enough. She’s warm, and that’s all that really matters to a 6 pound baby. He dribbles on her a bit, maybe. He doesn’t know. He is a baby. 

Sehun meets his parents a few days later, swaddled up in a nice, soft blanket. Free from the confines of the hospital, he is now free to continue doing exactly what he was doing inside it: being a baby. 

“Oh, Fan,” Sehun would hear, if he could process information. “He’s beautiful.” 

“I know,” comes a hushed whisper, almost close to tears. Crying, that Sehun understands. He does it a lot. 

“I’m scared I’ll drop him,” says the same, almost crying voice. 

“Don’t you dare.”

“Our little Sehunnie,” says a whisper, gently rocking Sehun into the kind of sleep that only babies can achieve. 

“You’re going to be so loved.”

\---

Sehun learnt how to spell his parents’ names when he was 5. Kim-Jun-Myeon and Wu-Yi-Fan. Easy. He’s now 6 though, and this is the first time someone  _ else  _ his age has been able to spell one of his fathers’ names. Sehun aims to be the best speller in his grade though, so this won’t do. 

“Taotao,” Sehun says, his inexperienced tongue unable to manage the pronunciation of his desk partner’s actual name. “How do you know that word?” 

“Wu-Yi-Fan?”, Zitao asks, stretching out the letters carefully, proudly. “My mom likes him, so I wanted to make a card for her which had him in it, so I asked Mr. Zhang to show it to me.” 

Sehun opens his mouth in understanding, before getting confused again. What does Zitao mean his mom likes his Dad? 

“How does she know him?”, Sehun asks, pouting a little. Appa won’t be very happy. 

“He’s… what’s the word?”, Zitao says, thinking hard. Sehun can tell, because Zitao looks different when he’s thinking. He likes Zitao. He always shares the nice crayons. “Famous! I think he’s on TV or something.” 

That can’t be true. Sehun would know if his Dad was famous. 

Right?

\---

He’s sitting on the floor, coloring, when he remembers the conversation he had with Zitao. 

“Dad,” he asks, putting his crayon down, looking up at his father. His Dad is very tall. Sehun wants to be like him one day. 

His Dad looks over to him, smiling expectantly.

“Are you famous?”, Sehun asks. He doesn’t look famous. He just looks like Sehun’s Dad.

Sehun’s not old enough yet to recognise complex emotions. He does, however, realise that his Dad looks a little different when he answers. 

“Yes, Sehunnie, I suppose you could say that I’m famous. Why do you ask?” 

Sehun tries to remember how to say Zitao’s name. 

“Taozi told me,” Sehun says, beaming proudly. He’s 99% sure he got the name right. 

His Dad laughs. Later, Sehun will find out it’s because Sehun just said that a peach told him that his father was famous. 

For now though, if his Dad is laughing, Sehun will too. 

\---

He’s 8 when he first learns that people bring flowers to people they love; it’s a trip to the market with his Dad, who stops by the florist’s to pick up a flower. 

“What’s that for?”, he asks, as he clutches onto his father’s hand, so as not to trip over his own legs. He’s talking about the extremely large sunflower in his Dad’s hand.

“This?”, his Dad asks. “This is for Appa.”

“Why?”

His Dad laughs, and then says it as if it’s something that everyone knows.

“You give flowers to people when you love them.”

Sehun makes a note of that in his 8 year old mind. He stares at the sunflower. He decides that those are his favourite.

\---

Sehun is 11 now, stuck in that awkward age where he thinks he’s independent because he owns deodorant but still listens to the music his parents listen to. 

Right now, though, he’s under the covers, trying to block out the sound of his parents fighting as he texts Zitao on his iPod Touch. 

[zitaocean]: you weren’t in class today? :( 

Sehun laughs at Zitao’s stupid emoticon. He hears his Appa say something about his job. He blocks it out.

[hunshine]: my Dad came back home after AGES. convinced appa to let me skip :P

[zitaocean]: lucky~ had to sit through Math for an hour w/o you :/ at least you’re entertaining

A door slams somewhere in the house. Sehun types meticulously. 

[hunshine]: i’ll come tomorrow. Promise. I’ll ask appa to bake some of that cake you like so much too. 

[zitaocean]: hun-ah, you're a star.

Sehun’s never been called a nickname other than Sehunnie. 

“Hun-ah,” he tries, carefully, trying the word out. “Hun-” 

“- _ no Yifan, I need you to spend some time with your family! I don’t care which director needs you to smile for the camera-”  _

Sehun tries to turn his attention back to his iPod, but Zitao is now offline, and so are all of his other friends. He tries to burrow under the covers. His parents  _ never _ fight. 

Sehun was looking forward to today too. His Dad was finally back from another one of his really long business trips, to film a movie or something. Sehun knows that his Appa misses him, but recently, he’s been getting more and more tense when the trips come up. His Dad’s trips have been longer too. 

This morning, when he saw his Dad, Sehun tried, again, to see if he looked famous. He didn’t. He just looked tired. 

Sehun sighs, and pulls the pillow over his ears. It covers up the shouting.

\---

He’s 17 and at Zitao’s house, lying on his bed as Zitao does his homework. His phone buzzes. 

“Ugh,” he exclaims, as he reads the text from his parents. They want him to come back home. 

“You need to go?”, Zitao asks, turning around his rolling study chair. 

“Yeah,” Sehun sighs. “I don’t want to.” 

“Are they fighting again?” 

Sehun sits up, the crease of Zitao’s blanket having made an impression on his face. 

“They’re always fighting.” 

Zitao scoots over, the one bad wheel in his chair squeaking painfully. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, softly. 

“It’s okay,” Sehun sighs. “It’s not like I’m not used to it. It’s just- they’re supposed to be this perfect couple, right? That’s what all the gossip blogs say. But they’re not, and I don’t  _ get it _ . Does it always work like that?” 

“I’d hope not,” Zitao answers. “I’d really hope not.” 

Sehun lets his head fall forward, to rest on Zitao’s shoulder. 

“College soon, Hun-ah. Maybe stuff gets better.” 

“I know,” Sehun says. He breathes in deeply, before sitting up straight, and then standing. 

“I should go. Don’t want them to worry about me on top of everything.” 

Sehun makes his way to the door, and Zitao shuffles after him. 

“Listen, Hun-ah,” Zitao says, just as Sehun opens the door to leave. “Do you want to maybe go to prom? Uh, together, I mean. As friends.” 

Sehun turns to him, mouth open, all thoughts of his bickering parents thrown out of his mind.  _ As friends _ echoes slightly in his head, but he throws that out of his mind too. Zitao just asked him to prom. 

“Yes,” he says simply. He has no idea how to respond to this, so steps to the door. He’s one foot out before he feels the need to confirm again. He turns around. 

“Yes.” 

Zitao smiles.

\---

It’s prom night, and Sehun is ready way too early. 

He’s sitting at the dinner table, clutching his phone, waiting for Zitao to text him, when his parents decide to join him. 

“Sehunnie,” his Dad says, and his tone is too gentle to be anything good. “We need to talk.” 

Sehun looks up to find his parents sitting in front of him, on either side of the table. It’s almost comical, the size difference between the two. Sehun has outgrown his Appa, but his Dad is still taller. He would laugh at how tiny Appa looks in comparison, but his fathers aren’t looking at each other. 

“What happened?”, he asks, softly, gently. It seems like there is too much at stake here. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell him right now, Junmyeon,” his Dad says, turning to his Appa. Sehun’s neck almost cracks with how fast he turns to look at him. His Dad always calls his Appa Myeon. Never his actual name. 

His Appa ignores his Dad. 

“Sehun,” his Appa says. “We’re getting a divorce.” 

Sehun’s entire world crumbles around him. 

He tries to formulate a response, to laugh, because this is  _ obviously _ a joke, it can’t be anything else, it just  _ can’t _ . But all Sehun can do is stare at his parents, and try not to cry. His mouth is open, slack jawed, because he has no idea what to say and he doesn’t know what’s going on. 

“What?”, he finally manages to force out. He wants to go home. 

“Your father and I haven’t been doing very well in the past few years. He’s been caught up in work and it’s taken a toll on our relationship. We waited to get a divorce till now so we wouldn’t have a custody battle.” 

His Appa rattles it off like it isn’t tearing him apart. Sehun turns to his Dad, because surely, surely this is hurting him, but he looks  _ fine.  _ Resigned, maybe, but he’s not crushed like Sehun is. 

“Why now?”, Sehun asks, and what he really means is why his parents had to ruin the one night he’s been looking forward to, why they kept it from him for so long, why this is  _ happening _ . Divorce is something that happens to other people, to that one classmate in fifth grade who moved, to one of your friends who has a stepmom and insists it’s nothing like Snow White. Divorce doesn’t happen to Oh Sehun’s parents, the couple goals that media companies won’t stop talking about. 

“I wanted to tell you later,” his Dad says. “But Appa got tired of keeping it from you, Sehunnie. I wish we’d waited at least one more day, but-”

“I thought you could get your mind off it at prom,” his Appa explains, and he sounds cold. Who are these people? Sehun doesn’t know them. He wants home. 

“How could you do this to me?” 

It seems to slap his parents across the face, and Sehun immediately wants to take it back, but he doesn’t. How could they? How could his Dad keep this from him for so long? How could his Appa ruin his prom night? How could they get divorced?

Neither of his parents make a move to speak, and that’s when Sehun’s phone buzzes. He doesn’t need to look down to know that it’s Zitao. 

He stands, and all but runs out, making his way from their drawing room to the front door. He hears his Appa weakly call out after him. He doesn’t care. 

He wishes that he could have some dramatic moment. Some standout reaction, an emotion that he can latch on to. But he feels nothing, like it’s not real, like it’s not happening, even though deep down, he knows it is. Sehun’s hands tremble.

Zitao is standing outside, and he smiles at Sehun, not catching on that something is wrong. 

“I, uh, brought you sunflowers,” he says, and he sounds shy. Sehun looks at the sunflowers. He wants to go home. 

Sehun barrels into Zitao, making sure not to squish the sunflowers, and sobs into his shoulder. Zitao’s arms come up around him almost instantly, and Sehun can tell he’s worried. 

Sehun wants to go home, but for now, crying while Zitao holds him will do. 

\---

“Stop panicking,” Zitao tells him gently. Sehun’s hands are too fidgety to be able to tie his own tie, so Zitao is doing it for him. 

Sehun’s eyes circle wildly across the room, mentally listing everything he needs to remember, the rings, the cues, everything, before he finally meets Zitao’s eyes again, relaxing instantly. 

“What else am I supposed to do when my parents get married a second time and make me the best man? For both of them?” 

“Relax,” Zitao says, large hands running down Sehun’s jacket, smoothing it down, before settling on his waist. “Just stand there, look pretty, don’t drop the rings, and make sure your parents don’t kill each other.” 

Sehun glares at him. 

Zitao raises his hands. 

“I’m joking,” he laughs. “Now wait, smile at me a little. I want to get a good look at you.” 

Sehun stands still, looking at Zitao, trying to anchor himself onto him, because he keeps him still in times like this, and- oh my god, Zitao’s  _ crying _ . 

“Why are you crying?”, Sehun asks, frantic, crossing the distance, hands reaching Zitao’s face instantly. He’s already panicking, and Zitao crying is  _ not _ helping. “Zitao? What happened?” 

“You’re so beautiful,” Zitao chokes out, tears streaming down his face. “And I can’t help but think that one day we’ll be the ones needing best men, and I’ll get to see you like this, but this time you’re coming up the aisle, and-” 

Sehun stares at him, open mouthed, almost on the verge of tears himself. 

“You sentimental doorknob,” he forces out, willing himself not to cry. “Don’t make me ruin my makeup.” 

“I love you,” Zitao says, and then Sehun’s alarm goes off, signalling that he needs to be out the doors soon. 

He looks to Zitao, panic in his eyes. Zitao reaches for his hand and squeezes. 

“Go,” he says. “Your parents will do great. You’ll do great. I’ll be in the audience.” 

“Okay,” Sehun whispers out. “Okay.” 

“See you after the ceremony,” Zitao smiles. “I’ll be your third dance.” 

Sehun doesn’t want to be reminded about the two father-son dances he’ll have to participate in but he has no time to yell at his fiancé. The ceremony starts soon. 

\---

“I sat here, trying to think of what to say that I didn’t say the first time when I wrote these vows,” Sehun’s Appa says.

“I tried to think of something that would hopefully do a better job than those did. And then I realised it wasn’t the vows fault.”

“It wasn’t yours either, or mine. I think that sometimes adult life is hard, and that it was just a little harder than usual for us. I think that fame is hard. I think that balancing everything that we had to balance is hard.”

“And I think that the first time I just wanted it to not be hard. I wanted it to work itself out. I wanted you to not work and still follow your dreams and be your best self and love us the most all at the same time, and that’s just not how it works. I don’t think it’s going to stop being hard. I just think that this time, maybe, I can try to make it a little easier.” 

Sehun manages to catch all of his Appa’s vows; he was too busy panicking about not being able to find the rings when his Dad was doing his. There’s a moment of silence in the hall, as his Dad struggles not to cry. Sehun has to hold back tears as well. 

The officiator asks for the rings then, and it’s Sehun’s moment. He doesn’t fumble, and hands them over smoothly. He watches his parents slip them onto each others fingers, and then turns to Zitao, who’s beaming proudly at him from the second row. 

Just like prom night, Sehun doesn’t know how to feel here. Surely it isn’t real. Surely his parents didn’t just get remarried. But they did, and as the ceremony continues and inevitably ends, as Sehun has his dance with his Dad and with his Appa, as he watches them have their second first dance together, as he finds his way back in Zitao’s arms as the evening continues, he feels happy for them. 

As Sehun rests his head on Zitao’s shoulder, swaying slightly, watching his parents dance like they’re the only people in the world, he feels happy, and he feels love.

He feels loved. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, and I hope you have a great day! Thank you for reading!  
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/hztwsx) and also on [Tumblr](https://hztwsx.tumblr.com/).


End file.
